


The Tears Fall

by KittieHill



Series: Prompts [12]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Angst, Crying, Cuddles, Declarations Of Love, Fluff, Frottage, Happy Ending, Kissing, M/M, Name-Calling, Past bullying experiences, Prompt Fill, Sherlock experiments, Then lots of comfort, and upsets John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-20
Updated: 2015-01-20
Packaged: 2018-03-08 07:47:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3201179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KittieHill/pseuds/KittieHill
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the prompt - Sherlock acts like being called Freak doesnt bother him, but when John calls him it. He can't act anymore.</p>
<p>Slight trigger maybe? Previous bullying? IDK just thought id throw it in there. </p>
<p>Happy Ending and fluff along with angst.</p>
<p>Please let me know what you think! Not beta'd, not for profit</p>
<p>Title taken from Mt Eerie's Voice in Headphones</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Tears Fall

John knew he shouldn’t have said it.

Sherlock looked like he had been dealt a physical blow to the stomach as he looked at John, nodding slightly with a trembling lip before turning and walking into his bedroom to hide from his angry flatmate leaving John alone in the kitchen feeling like the air had been sucked out of the space.

‘shit’ John whispered and walked into the living room, slumping to the sofa, his hands holding his head.

* * *

 

It had begun as most days did; John returned from work at the clinic to find Sherlock slumped over his microscope in silence. John looked over at his best friend with a soft smile,

‘had a nice day?’ John asked softly as he clicked on the kettle and collected the cold cup of tea which Sherlock had obviously ignored this morning.

‘hmm? Oh yes’ Sherlock replied without looking up ‘experimenting mainly’

John nodded and turned to place the refreshed cup onto the table noticing the experiment for the first time.

‘Sherlock is that my…’ John paused and grabbed the half ripped paper ‘Jesus!’

‘I needed it to prove a theory’ Sherlock started before looking at John’s angry face, it was becoming red with fury,

‘No Sherlock’ John spat angrily ‘Please tell me you didn’t’

Sherlock stayed silent, his eyes moving across John’s face to deduce why the man is so angry. He doesn’t normally get so furious over his experiments.

‘This was the only photograph I had of them’ John said sadly looking down at the torn photo

‘J-John I, I needed a reproduction of 1960’s photography paper and ink’ Sherlock stammered ‘I need to figure out whether the stain…’

‘Enough. E- _fucking_ -nough’ John growled, his hand trembling with the urge to punch Sherlock for this. This is too far.

‘Sentiment?’ Sherlock asked clearly confused,

‘This is the only photo I had of my grandparents. Grandad died before I was born and I only knew my nanna until I was 5’ John explained sadly ‘This was on my parents wedding day’

‘Oh’ Sherlock said, still confused ‘it was the perfect specimen for my experiment. I needed to cut up the part most densely saturated by the ink’

‘My grandparents faces’ John hissed through gritted teeth ‘You destroyed my only photograph so you didn’t have to go outside and look for another one’

‘I don’t understand why you’re angry’ Sherlock admitted,

John exploded; his fist smashing angrily against the kitchen table and making Sherlock jump in alarm.

‘You don’t understand? You don’t _fucking understand?’_ John hissed ‘That’s because you’re a fucking freak’

* * *

 

Sherlock sat on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest and his arms wrapped around his calves. He bit his lower lip as tears fell from his eyes to be absorbed into the fabric of his black tailored pants.

The detective ignored the hated ‘ _freak’_ barb whenever Anderson or Donovan spat it in his direction, pretending it didn’t penetrate the hardened walls he had put up around himself but in truth, it was the easiest way to hurt him.

He had been given the nickname ‘Freak’ at university, the other students bullying him mercilessly whenever he tried to change his behaviour to be more normal and pedestrian. Sherlock had started out as a novelty for his peers; a group of them inviting him to parties and asking his opinions on which party goers were carrying drugs or up for sexual encounters which Sherlock provided happily, thankful that he had made friends.

He soon realised they were using his talents and didn’t care for him as a person; they would taunt him, embarrass him in public ( _forcing him to run behind the car instead of riding inside, or forcing him to complete all of their assignments before the deadline without a thanks)._ Sherlock became a recluse, attempting to distance himself from the bullies but they had realised his weak spots and tormented him mercilessly.

Sherlock allowed himself to get close to a boy named Anthony. He was popular but seemed genuinely interested in Sherlock; allowing the younger man to slowly get to know him before they took the next step and became romantically involved. Sherlock had stupidly allowed Anthony to take photographs of him naked, thinking nothing of it he walked into the canteen to find a huge blown up poster of his naked body with the word _freak_ written beneath.

Mycroft had got involved and transferred Sherlock to another university but the damage had been done. He hadn’t allowed himself to get close to another person since, especially not romantically.

A sob escaped his lips as he remembered John’s face as he spat the word _freak_ at him. John, who was normally so nice and calm, looked almost possessed and raging. At that moment, John looked like he hated Sherlock.

Sherlock gripped his legs tighter and rocked gently, crying and biting his lip to stifle the noises. He jumped when he heard the soft rap on the door,

‘Sherlock?’

John. John’s calm voice.

Sherlock ignored him and didn’t respond. He didn’t trust his voice not to waiver.

‘Sherlock, mate I’m so sorry’ John sighed ‘Can I come in?’

The detective didn’t move as the door slowly opened and John’s body slipped through into the semi-darkness of the room.

‘Oh Sherlock’ John whispered and moved towards the bed, his hand softly brushing Sherlock’s shoulder ‘I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have said that’

Sherlock’s body was suddenly wracked with sobs as the tide of unhappiness and self-hatred rushed over him ‘J-J-John’ he stammered ‘I [ _sob]_ am [ _sob]_ so [sob _]_ S-Sorry’

John grabbed Sherlock’s body and pulled him into a tight embrace ‘hush now, it’s okay’ John soothed ‘Oh my love, I’m sorry’

Sherlock’s words were interspersed with gasps and sobs as he attempted to speak ‘I- I didn’t-mean-to-to’ he managed before sobbing harder, his eyes red and sore from the tears and being pushed into the bones of his knees.

‘Shhhh’ John whispered, feeling the burn of his own tears building ‘It’s okay’

‘I-I-It’s not’ Sherlock whimpered ‘Y-Y-You’re going to leave me’

John chuckled and shook his head ‘Never. Now come on. Calm your breathing for me’

Sherlock realised he was on the verge of hyperventilating as he gasped for breaths. Forcing himself to calm he slowed his breathing and felt the tingling, numbness of his lips slowly disappearing.

John changed their position so he was lying on his back, head on Sherlock’s pillow as he pulled Sherlock to rest on his chest. They had never been in such close proximity before but John couldn’t have cared less, he needed to comfort the inconsolable detective regardless of his own confused feelings.

Sherlock rest his head on John’s shoulder and inhaled deeply, smelling the aroma of John ( _slightly medicinal from the surgery, tea, deodorant, hint of sweat)_ and fisting his hands into the soft fabric of John’s oatmeal coloured jumper.

‘Good’ John soothed, pressing a kiss to the crown of Sherlock’s head ‘That’s good. Keep breathing like that for me’

Sherlock whimpered as he wrapped himself around John, his legs twining like vines around John’s shorter legs. His mind was whirling with thoughts, deductions, new sensations and the urge to catalogue these new feelings but he was too exhausted. His body craved the heavenly embrace of sleeping in John’s arms.

‘I didn’t mean to say that word’ John admitted ‘I should never have’

‘Y-You’re right’ Sherlock whispered into the fluffy fabric ‘I am a freak’

John moved his hand to cup Sherlock’s jaw and pull him up to look into the doctors eyes ‘You’re not a freak. You’re incredible’

Sherlock blushed but kept his eyes on John’s blue ones as he spoke softly ‘It’s okay John. I’m okay with it’

‘I’m not’ John insisted ‘You’re not a freak. You’re amazing and talented, you care about people and things, you know more than any man I’ve ever met and I’m astonished that you allow me to be your friend’

Sherlock bit his lip and lowered his eyes, missing the exact moment that John’s resolve snapped and he bent to press his lips against Sherlock’s own.

The kiss was messy; Sherlock hadn’t kissed anybody in over a decade ( _Anthony being the last his brain helpfully supplied)_ and his nose was still running from his crying but even a sloppy and inexperienced kiss was perfect for John as they moved against one another gently, John cupping Sherlock’s face reverently as though he was the most precious thing in the universe.

Sherlock’s breathing hitched as John began moving his lips over his slightly stubbled cheek and chin, pressing soft kisses onto the skin as he journeyed down Sherlock’s throat until he reached the purple shirt which enclosed Sherlock’s pale skin,

‘Can i?’ John asked ‘we don’t have to… but I don’t ever want to stop touching you Sherlock’

Sherlock nodded anxiously and watched as John slowly unbuttoned his shirt, kissing and touching every inch of Sherlock’s bare skin until he reached the waistband of Sherlock’s trousers,

John looked up at Sherlock who nodded again and lifted his hips when John began sliding the now unbuttoned pants down his legs until they hung awkwardly around Sherlock’s ankles.

John kissed the soft skin of Sherlock’s lower stomach and pubic bone before licking and sucking at the exposed hipbones. His hands trailed over the soft skin of Sherlock’s thighs, running his fingers over each silvery scar and making a mental note to catalogue each one with his tongue. Sherlock was half hard, his cock lying heavily on the nest of black curls, his body wanted to be touched but his brain screamed that it was another trick. John would use his sexuality to embarrass him until he was driven out of his flat, his job and maybe even London itself.

‘Hey. Tell me what’s going on in that big brain of yours’ John whispered, his hand stroking soothingly over Sherlock’s stomach.

‘You’re going to mock me’ Sherlock gasped before biting his lip to stop anymore traitorous thoughts escaping.

‘Mock you?’ John asked confused ‘Why?’

‘Because I’m gay. I’m a gay freak. I’m ugly and weird and you’ll shame me’ Sherlock whispered, emotion returning to his voice.

‘Okay first off, I’m pretty sure I was the one who undressed you so I don’t care if you’re gay, straight or a goat’ John smiled ‘whatever you are, I’m pretty sure I’m not too far behind’

Sherlock gave a weak smile,

‘You’re not a freak and I’m going to spend the rest of my life apologising to you for saying you were’ John said angry at himself ‘and also, Ugly?! You?! Are you fucking joking?’

Sherlock knitted his eyebrows together and looked down at John in confusion,

‘Oh my god. You actually think you’re ugly’ John whispered ‘Sherlock… I want to hunt down every single person who has ever said a bad thing about you and break them into tiny pieces’

‘So-So you’re attracted to me?’ Sherlock asked nervously

‘I think I’m in love with you’ John admitted with a blush ‘Completely infatuated’

‘But… I’m not a nice man John. I complain and sulk, I storm around and call people names. I don’t understand emotions or sentiment, I can never be who you want me to be’ Sherlock whispered

‘I want you to be you. That’s all’ John insisted, placing a kiss over Sherlock’s navel

‘I… I don’t know what love is’ Sherlock blushed ‘I don’t know how it feels or what it means but I’m rather fond of you and I think I’d like us to be more than friends’

‘Friends, Flatmates, Crime fighters and partners?’ John asked with a blush watching Sherlock nod happily,

‘Then I have everything I want’ John smiled moving onto his side to better kiss Sherlock’s swollen lips and allow his hand to wrap around the now fully erect hardness between Sherlock’s legs.

Sherlock groaned at the sensation and bucked his hips carelessly into John’s fist, John used his other hand to free himself from the fabric prison of his trousers and underwear before positioning himself closer to Sherlock and wrapping his hand around both of their cocks, using his own to stimulate Sherlock’s frenulum as they rutted wildly against one another.

John removed his lips from Sherlock’s and spat onto his hand before wrapping them around their cocks again, stroking harder and faster, bringing them closer to the edge with every messy stroke and watching enraptured as Sherlock’s eyelids fluttered closed and his lips opened in a perfect ‘O’ of desire,

‘Jo-John’ Sherlock groaned, pressing his face into the crease of John’s neck and inhaling deeply at the concentrated odour of John’s body ‘Close’

‘Me too’ John replied with a grunt as he increased the pace ‘You first Sherlock, come for me’

Sherlock bucked and lifted his hips from the bed as his orgasm washed over him; wetness seeped over John’s fist and cock as Sherlock pumped spurt after spurt of hot cum. John felt the moisture and his own climax peaked with a shudder and a groan, his hand stroked them through their orgasms until they were boneless and relaxed against one another.

‘I’m sorry’ John whispered into Sherlock’s collarbone as his hand moved from their sticky cocks ‘I should never have called you that name’

‘I shouldn’t have destroyed your belongings’ Sherlock replied with a soft smile ‘I’ll make it up to you’

* * *

 

John hadn’t wanted to leave the flat for work the next morning; he and Sherlock had spent the night together in Sherlock’s bed, laughing and crying together as Sherlock explained his reaction to the word. John was angry that Anthony would have done something like that but Sherlock had merely shrugged and cuddled John tighter. They fell asleep as a couple for the first time promising never to resort to name calling or destroying property in the future.

When John returned home from the clinic he was met with an empty house and a gift. The box was wrapped elegantly with red paper and a black bow and had a note attached to it, written in Sherlock’s spiky handwriting it simply said,

_I love you_

-          S

John opened the box and gasped as a newly restored and framed photograph of his grandparents lay at the bottom. The colours looked stunning and the picture was far more defined than the one before, John opened his mobile to send a text and saw he had one already from Sherlock.

_A man owed me a favour. Hope you like it - SH_

_Also, we need milk – SH_

John chuckled and shook his head realising that nothing much had changed between them.


End file.
